Daily Kup (My Life in the Middle Ages)
Heavy rains hammered. Winds shook the house. My rain barrel filled, overflowed and then repeated the process. The kids are excited to think that it may snow tomorrow. I sat inside, snug in my three sweaters and lowered thermostat, and worked on my job search and the data flotsam and jetsam of my life.
Weighty Concerns or What a Friend We Have in Chocolate
My husband is minding his health. He is watching what he eats and hitting the gym daily. As he is closer now to forty than to thirty, he has come to grips with his father's tragic obesity-related mid-forties death and decided to take a different path. There's also the roughly $3000 spent last year on M&M's, pop, peanut butter cups, sausage sandwiches from gas stations, pop tarts, and Little Debbies's. I couldn't be happier about most of the positive changes and it goes to show that the motivation must come from within in order to be successful.
He says that he wants to fit into a Speedo. I've told him that he could wear one now. The only problem would be that no one could tell he had it on.
He's not keen on that joke.
He's feeling better and looking better. But Little Debbie is a harsh and unforgiving mistress and does not relinquish her minions without a struggle. Little Debbie uses psychological warfare. Chocolate and junk food withdrawal creates such an ornery person that I'm considering hiding a Hershey bar in a pocket cut in the skinless chicken breast for dinner just to mellow him out. A hungry husband does not spread joy. A really hungry husband replaces the stimulation that used to come from a steady intake of food with causing a commotion.
Over the weekend, he argued with his mother about the existence of a set of twins in his small hometown. He had not seen the two girls standing next to each other and had concluded that there was only one. That perception sort of makes sense when you don't consider that twins are almost always called "The Twins" at least some of the time. And, of course, it would be odd for one girl to be called by two different first names. Wouldn't you wonder? But I digress. The part that truly doesn't make sense is what he thought his mother would gain by insisting that there were twin sisters if there were not. Stranger still is getting hopping mad about it. "That's Mom trying to gaslight me again!?"
Speaking of gaslights, my car wouldn't start on Monday morning. The car wouldn't quite turn over even though the battery was good, no problems with the starter or alternator, the belts were tight. It was as though it couldn't get any gas ... because it was out of gas. T smirked and mentioned that he was not going to give me a hard time for my usual habit of driving around with the tank nearly empty since it finally caught up with me. Gleeful smirk.
Then I pointed out to him that he was the last one to drive the car. I was informed that this was all my fault because 'you told me to ignore the light and the gas gage." In truth, several years ago I told him to regard the light coming on with some skepticism. The first time that he drove the car and the gas light came on, he immediately pulled over to the side of the road and started to panic wondering how far he'd have to walk to a gas station. Never mind that the car was still running. My true statement was that it is not necessary to freak out. The light is a nice reminder that some time in the next forty miles would be a good time to fill up. I never said, "It's OK for the needle to go so far below Empty that there's space between the needle and the Empty line." My car does not run on moonbeams.
I'll spare you the details of two other conversations with the general descriptions "It's much smarter to get a leather coat soaking wet standing in the rain than to wear a raincoat" and "gasoline has never before evaporated out of the gas cans when I've left them unsealed."
I'd like to hire someone to get some junk food into his system. Right about now, I really don't care about the entrance point but could suggest one if asked.
I love that he's making these dramatic and positive changes to improve his health. I only hope I survive them. With humor intact.
No comments:
Post a Comment